The Joker and The Thief
by Arche De Katze
Summary: TDK" Like most of my stories, I'm not gonna have a summery until at least four chapters in. Read and if you like it then review and you'll be rewarded with a summery and a new chapter. Chapter 2 is up!
1. Chapter 1

I LIVE!Yeah, here I am. You found me so you get a cookie. nom-nom Well, I get a cookie. You get a story. Normal things, I don't own anything from DC comics. Things you don't recognize are probably mine. Oh, and the story title. Its actually the title of a real song. You should go listen to it. But review first!

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Just another boring day in a predictable town. Its noon, but not nearly as bright as it should be; it's always cloudy in Gotham I always say. I straighten my hat and pull back my short brown hair that, despite being short, has been getting caught in my blue-lensed sunglasses all morning. Heading home from a morning of work feels so wonderful. At nineteen years old, the world is my oyster.

The downtown streets are cluttered with business people hurrying to lunch and one of them catches my eye. He's tall, but being 5'3 most people are. His expensive suit looks pressed and fresh and his black hair is slicked back. An ordinary workingman, my regular customer. He doesn't seem to notice me as we walk towards each other, probably too busy talking to his brand new, top-of-the-line cell phone. I use some bystander as a bumper and trip right into the man, slipping my hand into his pocket and removing the pesky weight before falling back. His wallet is in my pocket before I hit the ground and I wince.

"You ok?" The man asks, hanging up phone and helping me to my feet.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn't looking where I was going. Guess I paid the price, huh?" I ask, rubbing my hip.

He laughs, "That'll happen. Be more careful next time." He hurries along his way leaving me to continue my walk home, a song in my heart. Same old Gotham.

"Got anything?" I ask, walking into the den. The three guys are sprawled

out on the couches in the room watching the tiny staticy TV.

Mike, a lanky guy with short brown hair and glasses tosses some photos my way without looking up. "Got these shots of two police exchanging money with mobsters."

I sigh and scramble the pitchers up off the ground. "Anything else?"

Shawn slams his fists down on the armrests, "Damn it Amy, we're pick-pockets! You have us out there taking pictures and spying on these big time criminals and we're not even making money! Things were so much better when we were just going out jacking wallets and grabbing things from gas stations. We actually had a purpose doing what we like."

"It doesn't make you feel at least a little good to know that we are helping people? These pictures alone show how bad off this city is!"

"Its not our problem. It wasn't our problem two weeks ago before that clown showed up. Ever since you saw him on the news you've been all 'Save The World" and shit. Fuck that."

I stand up and glare at him, "I asked you to do this for me and you said ok! I didn't pressure you or order you to do anything! If you want to go back to stealing then have at it, I'll do this alone, but just tell me if you got something to work with."

He nods to Blake who hauls himself off the couch and walks over to me. "We just don't want to see you hurt. We're small time thieves. These guys you're looking at will kill you if they find out what you're doing." He hands me an envelope, "What you're doing isn't safe."

I take it and smile, "I never do anything safe. This just gives me more of a rush."

"Pick pocketing use to give you a rush. Robbing gas stations at 2am gave you a rush. Leading a band of petty criminals use to give you a rush." He motions to the guys in the den then lowers his voice to a whisper, "You're not Batman."

"I know. I can't do what he does but I can give him pushes in the right direction."

He rolls his eyes, "Do you honestly think that he needs you to direct him?" His words feel like weights and I lower my head in shame, "Exactly."

"Maybe..." I shut my mouth and think for a moment before starting again, "He just goes out and does whatever he can find. I know the police use to help him but now the Commissioner is the only one and he's covering it up. I look at what we find and I send off what I think is most important for the city."

Shawn lets out a bark of laughter, "Oh yeah, lets save the city. Lets help these rich business people who won't hire us. Lets help this great city we live in, the city where we get our couple food stamps a month! Lets help the place that's keeping us on the brink of starvation." He stands up, "We're living in a dump! Can't you see it? Living in an abandoned warehouse, sleeping on furniture we pulled off the street side before the dump trucks could get it. Watching a broken TV!" He kicks the screen in and it sparks wildly.

Mike screams in frustration, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Shawn turns towards him and throws a punch, missing but follows up with the left and sends him into a wall. Blake jumps in and grabs Shawn from behind, trying to control him but is easily flipped around and head butted. I'm moving my normal speed but its so easy to keep you're footsteps quite on a concrete floor. I flick my knife open as soon as Shawn's skull meets Blake's face and before he even hits the floor the tip of my blade is pressed carefully against his neck.

"I want you to get the fuck out of my sight. If you ever come into this place again then you're dead." I flick my knife away quickly, making sure to leave a nice cut on the back of his neck. "Good luck finding someone who will deal with your shit for as long as I did." I put the blade away with a snap and take a few safe steps backwards. He grabs one of the plastic crates laying around we use as tables and chairs and leaves without a second glance.

Mike helps Shawn up and onto the couch, blood dripping from where Blake's forehead cracked him in the nose. He points at me, "You... Why didn't you stop him before he hit me?"

His words are muffled some by his sleeved arm covering the lower half of his face but I get it, "It was easier for him to be distracted by you while I was sneaking over. Plus, that breaking sound covered up my knife better than anything." I flip my knife open again and listen to the metallic click as it locks into place before I close it again.

"You used me as bait." Its not a question, or disappointment.

"I did what was best. I stopped the train before it got too out of control."

"You saved yourself." Mike corrects, taking over all the talking as Shawn flips onto his stomach and lets his nose drain out.

I shrug, "Well, someone had to and it didn't look like it was going to be either of you."

"But now we're down a man."

"Then we're gonna have to make up for that. I'll finish those pictures and things up today then its all work. I expect both of you to be working twice as hard. I'll be out there longer than you guys now making up for Shawn's part." I gather up my papers off a nearby box, "I saw a TV in a pawn shop last night, 50 and no static. Lets try to make enough extra for that." A thumbs up from Blake is all I need before hurrying up the metal stairs into my 'office'.

I take my seat at my makeshift desk, an old coffee table at the foot of my mattress, and lay out the photos. You can clearly see the faces of the dirty cops, the well-known mobster, and the stack of bills being exchanged. Everything seemed perfect there, normal police corruption. An everyday thing in Gotham.

I pick up the big envelope and tear it open. Four pictures and a piece of paper fall out. I pick up the paper first and find an address written neatly in the middle. I drop it and snatch up the photos, praying that its what I've been looking for. There, centered in the first picture is an old warehouse, not unusual for a place around Crime Alley. The next is a large room, tables and couches are everywhere but, once again, not unusual. Our loft would look like that if we tried to get a real table. I flip to the next one and stare in wonder and fascination. It's a room, a bedroom. The red writing on the wall and the knives are enough proof for me that it's His. I can't contain the smile on my face and I laugh happily. The last picture… one glance and my smile is gone, the giggles are dead. It looks like a basement. Barrels upon barrels fill the room. I jump off my bed in a panic and dig through my newspaper clippings. I find it in black and white but there is no mistaking it. A picture from the day the police unloaded the explosives off the ferries shows the bomb squad lugging those same cylinders. I squeeze the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes tight.

What the hell am I suppose to do with this stuff? My eyes pop open and I jump back onto my bed, pulling three envelopes and a pen out from under my bed. I lean over my desk and start sorting and scribbling. Sunset is only a few hours away.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews! You guys always know how to keep me coming back. This one is kinda short so don't yell at me.

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I bike down the sidewalk at breakneck speed, people jumping out of my way before I run them other. The sun just touches the tops of the towers and sinks fast. I reach the Gotham City Police Department and walk in nervously, taking in the strange sights and smells. I'm one of the lucky ones to have never been in here before. Either one of the guys could have gone but they have a record. I take in my surroundings. The front desk, desks and chairs further in, and in the back a door marked 'Commissioner'.

"Can I help you?" A feminine voice from behind me makes me jump.

I turn around and make my eyes tear up. "Uh, yes. I wanted to know if I could have a few sheets of paper and a pen and write up a lost poster for my dog. He got out yesterday and I figured that since you guys patrol that maybe if they saw a poster then they would bring him in."

The officer smiles warmly, "Sure. If you could take a seat right over there, I'll go find some paper." She points at the line of chairs before walking through a door and out of sight. I walk calmly back to where the officer's desks are. I've found that if you act like your suppose to be there, people will think you do. I make it all the way to the door and stand at the desk in front of it. The man looks up at me, "You need something?"

"Yes, that lady at the front didn't have any blank sheets of paper and said that maybe one of the officers back here did." I smile hopefully at him.

He's caught off guard by my question and scratches his head, "Er, well I don't but I know someone who does. I'll go get some." He stands up and as soon as his back is turned I take out the envelope in my pocket and drop it on the floor, kicking it under the door before following the man.

"Hey Michaels, got any blank paper?"

"Sure," the woman at the desk says cheerfully. She pulls out a sheet and hands it to him. "Here you go."

"Thanks." He turns around and jumps to find me standing behind him, "Oh! Here you go kid."

I take the paper, "Thank you sir." The commissioner door behind me opens and I resist the urge to look as I walk away. A few seconds later it closes and I smile taking a seat in a chair.

"There you are." The woman who was at the receptionist's desk says when she sees me. "Where'd you go?"

"One of the officers asked me what I was doing here and he told me he had a piece of paper."

"Oh good. Well, here are two more pieces and a pen." She hands them to me and I take them.

I spend a good five minutes writing out three missing dog posters then hand them to the lady and make my exit.

Back at the loft, I find my two boys sitting just how I had left them, only this time they're watching a new TV.

"How did you get that?"

Blake looks at Mike who beams at me, "Don't ask, don't tell."

I roll my eyes. "Blake, did you do what I asked you to?"

"Absolutely Babe. Everything's covered, now get over here, the news is about to start."

I let out a squeak of excitement and bound over, jumping onto Blake's lap and settling down in the spot right beside him.

"Good Evening Gotham, tonight we received a letter from an anonymous viewer. We were asked to show this picture and read the letter as our first story. We will warn you that this may be shocking."

The screen changes to a still shot of a room, grey concrete walls and no windows. A lamp in the corner is on revealing red splatters across all the walls spelling out "HA". Newspaper clippings litter the floor and on a table sits a mirror, some makeup, and a row of knives.

The announcer's voice breaks in, reading off the letter, which appears in white text on the side of the screen. "Citizens of Gotham. I obtained this picture with some difficulty and felt that I should share it with you. This is the bedroom of The Joker. He's terrorized us and interfered with our personal lives, so why shouldn't we all know what his privet life is like. No, I'm not Batman but rest assured, by now Batman should have the address. If he doesn't, then the police have it. Joker, if you're watching this, you should probably get going."

I can hear Mike and Blake giggling beside me but I can't stop laughing, my face burns and my stomach cramps up. I laugh so hard I cry. As I come down off my high I hear Blake beside me, "I don't know why you're so happy. You just started a war with the Joker."


End file.
